Paint me
by KicktheCJ
Summary: They say that once you fall in love with someone, you can paint them like an angel.


Nick's hand moved fluently across the page in front of him, his only talent- writing, he had the power of words as his best friend often told him. He watched his spiky handwriting flow across the page and fall from his pen like a tainted black waterfall. There was a story unfolding on what was once a lifeless blank piece of paper.

The brunet had spent the day alone, it was a Saturday so no classes and Jeff-his best friend-had attended art classes for the day, it was the thing he loved the most; like Nick's passion was writing, Jeff's was painting, only the blonde was much more successful.

A bittersweet feeling came over the boy as his hazel-brown eyes scanned over the last spidery letter that graced the page; _The End_. He had spent the last three years trying to write and re-write this particular idea; of two boys falling in love, growing up together since they met for the first time at the age of 7 on a boat with their parents, then kept in contact, then ended up rooming together at a boarding school.

Based on a true story…he hoped.

At that moment the lock turned and in waltzed his jittery-looking friend, trying to gain control of his un-coordinated long limbs and his canvases. The moment his unloaded the paints and dry pots onto the couch, he sighed with relief. Turning, his ultramarine eyes locked with his hazel-eyed friend and his face lit up.

"Nicky! How was your day?"

"I finished it," Jeff's jaw dropped.

"Congrats! You've been writing it for so long…"

"I still need to edit it Jeffy, no need to get so excited," He chuckled as his best friend enveloped him into a hug, his arms wrapping around the boys neck as he curled up on his lap, burying his face into Nick's neck. "What about you? How was art class?" The blonde stretched and pulled himself off the boys lap.

"Great, same old, I think I'm sitting the next project out though," He laughed nervously, his face flushing. He began to play with his hands, a blatant sign of nervousness for the blonde.

"Why?"

"Well…urm…" He gulped. "We have to… we were talking about how…what Humanity would have been like if we'd just kept it the way we were created, like without clothes and fancy dancy shit and stuff like that, so whilst we were just debating it between us, our art teacher said we should paint someone…without clothes," He face went bright red, his eyes staring at his hands. "And I couldn't even think of anyone I would be comfortable painting…except for you…but I didn't think…so I thought I'd just take the bad grade for this…."

Nick stared at the boy. "You could've just asked," The brunette stood up, ruffling the boy's perfect blonde hair; the sun was hitting every strand perfectly, making it look almost bleach blonde until it reached its brown roots. "Jeff, I know its awkward topic for you, but you're the best they've got and you need the extra grades to get into some fancy smancy art collage right?" He chuckled. "I'll do it,"

His azure gaze landed on Nick, widening in surprise, "Really? For me?"

"For you," He chuckled, laughing as the blonde bounced over to him and hugged him. "You're my best bud," As the blonde walked out the door a few minutes later, most likely to inform his art teacher that yes, he would be doing the assignment, nick couldn't help but think_. 'I wish you were more,_' But he couldn't ever risk losing the blonde.

He hadn't really thought this through, Nick realised, as he stood facing his best friend with a red tint to his cheeks, lips dry and suddenly very self-aware. "So…" He bit his already damaged lips and wondered suddenly, why on Earth did Jeff want to paint _him_?

Jeff cleared his throat. "You should probably start by taking your clothes off," He coughed halfway through the sentence, half wondering when he got the right to say _that_ to _Nicholas Duval,_ of all people. He studied the boy's thin line of stubble, the deep hazel eyes and half-curly ebony-brown locks that fell onto his forehead.

His hands were shaking slightly as he moved them to the buttons on his shirt, starting by unbuttoning three and stopping again, biting his lip, staring at the floor as he did three more. "You don't have…"

"I said I would," Finally his shirt fell to the floor. Nick played soccer, and Jeff had never thought much of it really, but looking at his broad, muscled chest he could see the effect of sports. He wasn't overly toned, or built purely of muscle like some men, but he wasn't fat or flabby, and his skin was smooth, and looked soft to touch. Jeff's blinding blue eyes followed Nick's hand to his zipper, where he decided it was a good idea to set up his canvas and pencils and paints.

When he turned around, his fringe five seconds behind him, his jaw went slack. Nick stood there nervously, eyes on the floor, his teeth drawing blood on his lip as he gnawed at it. His clothes were folded next to him, he was shaking.

Jeff felt his throat constrict, his breath knocked out of him as if he'd been slapped. He tried to force his eyes to a friendly part of the naked boy's body, but he simply couldn't, not when his best friend was standing there...like that…with a body like that. It sort of hit the blonde then, Nick had never even been kissed, he'd never stood before anyone naked, he'd never let anyone see his body…he trusted him, as his best friend.

"You…you're beautiful," He blushed, leaning over, he led the boy to the couch, "Just relax, look natural, I'm painting you, not someone's idea of you," Nick laid down, a shiver running down his spine as he did so; the cold was effecting him greatly. The brunette lay down on the couch, staring at the ceiling and encasing himself in his embrace. "I'm sorry if you're cold,"

"I'll survive," He chuckled. Jeff swallowed, his voice suddenly very dry as his eyes raked the boy' tanned, well-built body. The lazy evening sun illuminated the room then, with a dangerous ruby red glow, it added a hue to the boy's body; a glowing halo.

Jeff stared at the canvas and let his hands do the work; they cut themselves off from his brain, communicating only with his eyes. He let himself stop speaking as he stared at Nick's body.

The rest of the night seemed to drag, it seemed slow and broken as if time had lost it's sense and disappeared, but of course Jeff hadn't finished it before his head was drooping on his chest and Nick was worrying about his eyelids closing his hazel eyes from the world. Nick fell asleep, his ebony-brown hair falling on his face, his body shook in his sleep and when the blonde approached him, and his skin was burning ice under his skin. Jeff tucked a blanket around the boy, before heading off to sleep. It was a Monday tomorrow, but he could take the day off classes, there was nothing worth attending tomorrow, and Nick was in all his classes.

He placed a butterfly kiss on the boy's cheek before leaving the room; a blush on his cheek's and thought of Nick's lean, muscled body laid out in front of his eyes.

The next morning was slightly awkward, Jeff stared at Nick, Nick stared at Jeff. "Would you mind skipping classes?" The blonde had asked, after at least five minutes of them hardly _breathing_. Nick shook his shaggy, curling locks in reply, biting his lip and blinking silently. "Breakfast?"

"Sure,"

The two ate in silence, because all Jeff could think about was his best friend naked, half-painted on a canvas; all Nick could think about is what if he had been a good painter? What if it was him painting Jeff's long, muscled torso and firm dancer's legs? He flushed.

Soon, Nick was curled up on the sofa, staring at the ceiling again, his leg closest to Jeff bent slightly, hiding his crotch from view. The blonde painted again, mostly from memory because he didn't want the boy to think he was staring at him all the time.

That day it was done, because Jeff had quick, nimble hands and was talented with both a pencil and brush. It looked like a photograph; the blonde wished it was a photograph.

When it was finished, Nick stood up, stretching out his limbs; Jeff's azure orbs trailed over his body, his pale cheeks staining a precious pink colour, he bit his lip and tried to avert his gaze. The brunette noticed, he caught Jeff's eye and flushed, less noticeable on his tanned skin tone. "Ahem-Jeff? My eyes are up here," he had tried to sound confident, but his voice cracked and he stuttered just a bit, his whole body going pinkish because the boy of his dreams was staring at his crotch.

"I-I'm s-sorry,"

"I wish I could paint," He'd only half meant to say it, half of him wanted it out in the open and half of him was screaming not to do it. "I wish I went to your art classes, and had this assignment, I wish I could paint you because by God, I bet you're beautiful, you're a dancer and a painter and just by fucking walking, you move better than half the people who dance," He bit his lip, staring at the ground, gnawing nervously until he started to taste a familiar metallic-vinegar taste.

He heard shuffling and he half expected Jeff to have left because he wasn't speaking. About ten minutes later he finally looked up at a tap on his shoulder and he almost lost his breath.

He really did have a dancer's body, full of lean muscle and long limbs; he was a porcelain colour, pale as the afternoon glow hit his skin. He was curvy in a way most men weren't, but he made it work in a way most men couldn't. Nick breathed in slowly, his throat clamming up as he opened and closed his mouth; Jeff was stood before him completely naked. "You can't paint for shit," The other boy whispered, a small smile on his face. Those ultramarine eyes blinked smoothly, bashfully, a swirl of emotion pooling in them. "I thought I'd save everyone the trouble of putting a brush in your hand,"

Nick smiled softly, reaching out, Jeff moved towards him. He traced a finger along his jaw, his thumb lingering there before running it over the boy's protruding collar bone, he moved it down his toned chest, and muscled stomach, running each finger delicately over Jeff's hipbones. He stopped there.

The blonde stared unblinkingly, shivering under Nick's butterfly touch. Then they were kissing, their lips moving slowly, years of anger, sadness, loss, friendship and love pouring into it; every fight they ever had and every smile they ever shared. They linked hands, joining them between their bodies.

Half an hour later, they were lying entangled on the couch, moaning and panting, their bodies grinding against each other in a mad grab of desperation. "Jeff, I love you," Nick announced, muttering it directly into the blonde's ears before he pushed into him. Half an hour after that, they were both screaming each other's names as they came, enveloped in each other, kissing desperately as they came down from their high's.

That night, Nick fall sleep, the light of the moon lighting his face; he looked beautiful. Jeff crept from his bed, picking up his spare canvas, starting again.

He entitled it; "A fallen angel,"

Three years later, it would become one of the most famous and controversial paintings in America.


End file.
